As he stood on the threshold of transcendence, shedding the last weight of his divine form, the Prime Fire-Seer God, Jātaveda, turned his gaze back toward the world one final time.
In that moment beyond time, he saw the tragedy that would one day befall the world of Kṣetramaṇḍala. And before stepping beyond time itself, he spoke it into the sacred flame:
"Saḥ āgamiṣyati pravāsavāsī, yena lokaḥ uddhartavyaḥ, tam ajānantaḥ sarve tiṣṭhanti. Tasya agniḥ na dahati, na śaṁsati—kevalaṁ śodhayati."
He shall come cloaked in exile, unknown to the world he must save. His fire shall neither burn nor bless—but cleanse.
Jātaveda gave up the last thread of his immortal life—not to ascend, but to summon someone into the world. A soul from an exiled bloodline.
The prophecy spread across realms, but no one understood it. Not the sages, not the seers, not even the gods. So the gods descended.
In secret and in silence, they came to Rishi Matṛka, guardian of the last untainted fire-altar, and begged for meaning.
The rishi listened. Then he warned:
"To seek understanding of the words is to bind yourselves to their outcome. If you ask for this truth, your hands shall be tied. No god may directly shape what follows."
And still, the gods agreed.Then Rishi Matṛka built the final yajña. Not to burn offerings, but to call the devine will.
The rishi lit the fire with sacred ghee and his own blood. As the flames surged silver and bright, a presence descended—not a god, not a voice, but a divine will older than language.
The fire pulsed, and through it, the prophecy was spoken:
"Agni jātaḥ, niḥsaṅgaḥ, pāvanaḥ bhaviṣyati, Eṣaḥ lokeṣu tyaktaḥ, gupta-janyaḥ, yatra sāṃskārika-jvālā utpadyate."
Born of fire, detached and pure, he shall rise as the purifier of the land. Exiled from all worlds, veiled in forgotten lineage—
from him shall the Flame of Rebirth arise.
Then, in stillness deeper than silence, the Divine Will reached forth and took the rishi away. He did not burn. He did not fall. He simply vanished—drawn beyond the fire, beyond time, beyond memory. The gods lowered their eyes. The will was gone.
The verse lingered in the world like a secret carried by wind and ember. No one understood its full meaning. Yet the message was clear:
A purifier would come.
But what the world did not know was that the destined one had already arrived, Confused, disoriented, in a world where his ancestors once traversed, Marked by fire that even he could not yet control.
And while others searched the wrong names in the wrong places… He walked among them unseen, unknowing - the fire still sleeping in his blood.